Unmade
by Markition Necrovius
Summary: Loki has been forced back to the family he discarded with the Chitauri's promise of eternal pain on his heels. Now he must escape house arrest, a trial, and his own mind before the broken deal catches up to him. He can't do it alone. Thor/Loki.
1. Chapter 1

"_You know what it's like to be unmade."_

_ -_Clint "Hawkeye" Barton

The brothers landed where the bifrost used to be, at the very edge of the broken rainbow bridge at the feet of Heimdall. Loki didn't know if it was because there was some residual force of the fallen bifrost still lingering in the area to attract the Tesseract, or if it was out of sheer habit. The entrance to Asgard had always been the bifrost, and it always would be—even if the structure itself lay in ruins, it seemed.

Loki watched Heimdall bow to his future king and he smiled beneath the crude muzzle. Tradition would be Asgard's undoing. It was the bifrost, the ceremonies, the ancient beliefs, an entire population frozen in time because it believed itself to be perfect. It was a bitter thought, because he could think of a hundred different ways to bring Asgard to its knees now that he was in shackles. Once he'd wanted to rule this city. Now he thought that he'd quite like to see it burn.

"Welcome home," Heimdall greeted. He was flanked by eight soldiers, armed and armored. "The All-Father has prepared a feast to celebrate your return. And your brother's." He said the last bit with a touch of bitterness in his stony voice. His face was ever-expressionless, but Loki thought he saw the sentry's lips twitch into a brief scowl.

"I am very fond of these tidings," Thor declared. "Feasts on Earth are puny and there are never enough of them. You!" Thor pointed at the closest guard, then motioned him toward the palace. "Tell the All-Father to double the food and triple the wine, for I believe I could eat more than Volstagg at the end of a fast!"

The guard saluted and turned to carry out the God's orders. The remaining seven moved forward to relieve Thor of his prisoner. Loki watched, feeling rather apathetic, as the guards took him by the arms and began directing him down the length of the rainbow bridge. They moved as a unit, Thor walking abreast of the soldiers with these huge, ground-eating strides that the rest of the group struggled to keep up with. It was all marvelously choreographed, in Loki's opinion. It must have done the men proud to know that they were performing well; this was their five seconds of significance, after all. These peons were containing a royal prisoner and attending the heir of the All-Father. They could never hope to do anything better, short of dying for glory in battle.

Asgard and its damned traditions.

Loki stared at the city, mostly because there really wasn't anything better to look at. He certainly didn't want to see the back of Thor's head, and Asgard was pretty if nothing else. He honestly never thought he would see it again. That's saying a lot, an honest thought out of Loki Silvertongue, but it was true. It was the basest of sentiments, something that had haunted all of his journeys: he was an orphan. No home to speak of, a family that he'd forsaken. He'd come to terms with that fight, though. He'd made his peace the second he'd let go of Thor and plummeted into the black hole. Now he was back and it was going to make all those melodramatic emotional struggles worth less than nothing. He was thwarted by Thor even in his own head.

"Our father will be overjoyed to see you, brother," Thor said eventually, breaking the monotony of metal clinks and bootfalls. He stole looks sidelong here and there, and though Loki was sure he was trying to be subtle, Thor was as obvious as he always was. The brute was an open book.

There was a pause, presumably where Loki was supposed to reply. Maybe he was meant to have some sort of emotional revelation and throw himself at Odin's feet, begging for forgiveness. That's probably what Thor wanted to see out of him. Loki didn't even grace Thor with a heartfelt look; he kept his eyes on the distant peaks of the palace.

"Whether you wish to believe it or not, we are still your family and you are home," Thor added. His voice got just a little husky when he was speaking so close to his heart. It was quaint.

He thought it was a shame that the joy of the All-Father and his son was going to such waste.

The muzzle was obnoxious, and Thor's one-sided conversation was only making it more frustrating. It was an inconvenience, it was a barbaric way to control him. Thor knew him too well; even leashed he was a danger to his captors so long as he had his words. He wasn't going to get out of Asgard as easily as he'd escaped the humans and their cages.

They were approaching the end of the bridge. Most of the walk was done in silence, and it was a much longer journey without a horse to ride on. By the time the pearly stone of Asgard was within reach, Loki was aching. The injuries that mutated beast had given him weren't fully healed and he was still paying the toll for it; walking for an hour was the last thing he wanted to do. Odin's grim face, his single ragged eye and his spear as if he would need it—they were just an added spice of irony.

"Father!" Thor called. He strode ahead of the guards and embraced Odin with his usual lack of tact or ceremony. "Your sons have come home."

Odin smiled, but it was a thin expression, a sad one. "That they have. I welcome you both." He gestured for Thor to move aside, and approached Loki slowly. He moved like he was exhausted. "Ah, Loki. I would offer you a father's pardon for his son if I thought you would take it. As it stands your trial is scheduled in a fortnight's time. You will be confined to your old quarters until then."

Sleeping on a bed would be nice. The comforts of civilization would be enjoyable as a whole, really. Loki hadn't had a nice bath in a very, very long time. Running delinquent from one's homeland and discovering the dark, disgusting ends of the universe tended to do that. If he'd been able to respond to the offer, though, Loki would have taunted the old man. He would have questioned him as to whether just those old rooms could hold him, because he was Loki Silvertongue and he could slide his way out of anything. It was his talent. He would have bluffed and acted like his old rooms were the last thing he wanted because he honestly didn't want to see them again. Despite the comfort they offered, it was going to be a reminder, and he didn't want to sleep in that bed. Not after everything that had happened.

But he couldn't talk, so Odin simply turned from him and addressed the guards. "Take him to his quarters. Bar the doors and do not open them under any circumstances, not unless Thor or myself directly order you to. There are to be four men on watch at any given time, and another stationed outside the palace within view of his windows. Every possible escape route must be monitored."

The men saluted as one, then began walking again. Loki had no choice but to follow the armed guards, and he didn't miss the fact that they were walking alone now. Thor remained at Odin's side, smiling like a dog up at the All-Father, seeking his approval. Loki turned away just as Odin raised an arm around Thor's shoulders and demanded to know everything that had occurred on Earth. He didn't want to see it, he didn't want to look at the face of the family he'd forsaken.

He felt sick as the soldiers marched him toward the palace. His stomach churned, his head hurt and his mouth was dry. Thor's words chased his every step, that unconditional brotherly love and the way he was always going to pretend they were brothers no matter what Loki did. He hated it, he hated everything about this place. This was not how things were supposed to happen.

He didn't want to be home.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks to everyone that reviewed, I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. :3

Forgot the disclaimer last chapter, so I'll put it here: nothing belongs to me, just the vague semblance of a plot and the words you're reading. Characters and world are Marvel's.

xx

Chapter 2

Imagine a gentle death, a peaceful descent, spiraling into the great unknown. A sense of completion, of absolution, a painless end to a violent life. There is an enlightenment in the face of ultimate demise that exists nowhere else in the world, nowhere else in the universe, or the multiverse for that matter. There is nothing quite like facing the end.

Loki hadn't thought about that moment for a very long time. What had been months on one side of the universe had been years in another and that event seemed long behind him. When he'd set about conquering Midgard that particular memory had been a faded thing, like worn fabric or paper left in the sun too long, and he'd enjoyed it like that. It was true that falling into the black hole hadn't killed him as he'd thought it would, but the feelings were still there. The damn sentiment.

Being in Asgard was mucking up all his nicely-tethered thoughts. He didn't appreciate it, and he wanted to leave.

The spot he'd picked to brood in probably wasn't the best if he was trying to not remember his life as Odin's son. There was a window seat beside the floor-to-ceiling glass wall that looked out at Asgard's serene landscape and he'd nestled himself on it amongst the quilts and furs that he'd carefully collected over his childhood. Once upon a time he'd been a very picky boy, fussy to the point that he would refuse to sit on a chair if it didn't have the right texture. The window seat in his room was his favorite spot, it was lines with the softest furs he could find and had pillows in all the right spots. He'd perched there out of habit as soon as the guards had released his manacles and locked the door, and now he was regretting it.

He'd been a damn spoiled godling, he knew that now. But the seat was still pretty comfortable. Lounging in clean robes after bathing in a safe place, that was even better. Realistically he had everything he could ever ask for, even if he was a prisoner of war. Odin had become soft in his old age.

A heavy knock on the door drew Loki out of his thoughts. He glared at the entrance just in time to see Thor peek his head through.

"Brother? May I enter?" Thor asked. That was more polite than anything he'd ever said through their whole childhood, which was a bit of an oddity in Loki's mind. Strange man.

"I hardly think you need to ask your prisoner for permission to enter the jail," Loki sneered. It came out a little more venomous than he'd initially intended. He blamed it on the muzzle, and the fact that this was the first time he'd spoken to Thor since his defeat. "But of course, Odinson. Make yourself at home."

Thor stepped into the room and shut the door in silence. The soldiers barred it; metal scraping on metal gave it away. Odin's men weren't taking any chances with their prisoner's escape. He'd have to commend them for their caution.

"Loki, it does not have to be this way," Thor said gruffly. He spat the sentence, tried to get it out in one rush like he was afraid of being cut off. His eyes were bright and kind and sad and were focused on his brother like there was nothing else in the world that could hold his attention. It was cute, it really was.

There was something in his chest that felt rotten. A cyst of acid that had grown inside his lungs and around his heart and it hurt him when Thor looked at him like that. Loki would never have admitted that aloud, or let it show on his face, but he still ached when he had to face Thor's lost puppy look and beat him down with sharp words and a heavy hand.

"You're very fond of that idea, aren't you?" Loki asked. He smiled wryly. "You're in love with the thought that I'm going to turn around and try to redeem myself after all the terribly_ awful_ things I've done." The statement was mostly rhetorical; Loki did love his dramatic monologues, after all. They were the spice of life. "Shall we try it? See how it looks? Here, I'll get on my knees and start pleading for your forgiveness. But _you_, you can't be surprised when there's a blade between your ribs, Thor. Not while you're my benefactor, the fool that let me out of my cage."

He hoped it hurt. He hoped the words stung and chased him for hours. Loki didn't even care about manipulating his way out of his prison, not yet. He just wanted Thor to pay. And Thor _did_ pay; he could see it in the brute's eyes, the way he got all stony and his lips were a thick, heavyset line. Poor god of thunder was upset, the precious thing.

"Loki..." Thor sighed. He swallowed, mustered up his strength and tried again. "Father says-"

"-I couldn't care less what Odin thinks, Thor. What was it? More of his wise words about why I am the way I am?" Loki sneered. He'd curled up on his window seat without realizing it, and slowly forced himself to relax once he did. It wouldn't do to appear defensive this early on in the game. "Your father is as much a fool as you."

Thor inclined his head. He was swallowing his anger remarkably well, a far cry from the brash thick-headed warrior he'd grown up with. "...Father has said that regardless of what your sentence is, you shall serve it here in your homeland."

A bitter fire on his tongue burnished the polished silver of his words. Loki was not playing his game well, but he knew it and he was okay with that. If what Thor said was true, he had all the time in the world to toy with his captors. "Jotunheim is my homeland," he muttered.

"No," Thor spat. There was just a little anger in that word, a slip of his self-control. "Asgard is your home, Odin is your father and I am your brother. I do not care who bore you, Loki, or who your sire is. The All-Father treated you as a son and the least you could do is act like one."

There were literally hundreds of bitter, snide comebacks Loki had for that comment. He'd been stolen from his birthplace and raised by his father's worst enemy, now courtesy demanded he act as if he owed Odin some sort of immense debt? He'd been lied to his entire life about what—not just who, but quite literally _what—_he was, and he was to be happy about that? Tiny things too, how he'd taken the throne without taking Odin's life, sought to bring peace to Asgard, branded the enemy even though he'd intended to do nothing but good for the land.

In the end, he said none of them. He realized as he watched Thor's burning eyes that they would argue around this same damn point until the universe decided to collapse in on itself. There was no end to it. Thor was stubborn and too soft, he wouldn't stand to see Loki think of himself as an outcast, and there was nothing Loki could say to him to make him think otherwise. That was all well and good, but in the end it would get quite boring. There was nothing simpler than yelling at a dog that could not understand the whys.

And some part of him knew most of those arguments weren't even true anymore. He knew why he hated Asgard, and why he saw Thor as a stranger on the other side of a great divide, and none of it had to do with his misguided quest for approval.

"I grow weary of this banter," he said with a melodramatic sigh. Theatrics were all he had for the time being. "Did you come here for a reason, or do you just seek to taunt me?"

Thor shook his head. "Only to beg you to return to us," he muttered.

Did Thor have any notion as to how pathetic he looked? Loki snickered at him, it was cold and harsh and merciless. "Then you have your answer. Now leave."

The indomitable, unbreakable god of thunder turned tail and sulked out of the room. He was _defeated_, utterly grim with his heels dragging and his hand lingering on the door as he waited for the guards to unlock it. He even tossed that half-glance over his shoulder as he slid out into the corridor beyond the pretty prison, that desperate 'please Loki please' that only Thor could pull off without coming off as whiny. It was quite the show, all-in-all. Even after the door was shut and barred again, Loki found himself staring at the polished metal blankly, lost in it.

There weren't many creatures this side of the end-times that could make him reminisce so much about matters that he cared so very little for. He didn't appreciate it, not in the least.

Loki exhaled slow, a steadying breath, then rubbed his hands together just to make sure they were still there, whole and clean. He had this surreal floating feeling in his chest that made him paranoid, and he couldn't quite get Thor's face out of his thoughts despite many attempts to work around it, slide it out so he could work on planning his games. He couldn't afford to slip up. Not now. But Thor seemed determined to muck up his work with his damn loyalty and his feelings and his brotherly warmth that Loki hated, despised-

No, he didn't appreciate this _at all_.


End file.
